


Sheer Vertigo

by poison_quin (skinny_witch)



Series: Sheer Vertigo [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Harley Quinn (Cartoon 2019), Harley Quinn (Comics), Poison Ivy (Comics)
Genre: F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:14:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23216830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skinny_witch/pseuds/poison_quin
Summary: What's more pressing than a city catching fire and descending into chaos? Dating rumors, of course. But not just any dating rumors. We're talking #Harlivy dating rumors! The citizens of Gotham are dying to know just what's going on between those two—but the thing is, Harley and Ivy haven't quite figured that out yet either. Maybe some fake dating shenanigans will help. Maybe.
Relationships: Pamela Isley & Harleen Quinzel, Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel
Series: Sheer Vertigo [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1669216
Comments: 50
Kudos: 422





	1. Chapter 1

Everything looks golden in the late evening light.

The sun outside the windows is low in the sky, and Ivy watches it sit tangled in the branches of a tree, throbbing a gentle hue of orange as it slowly sinks behind the horizon. The room is blissfully tranquil, the TV a low hum in the background.

Harley is slouching next to her on the couch, all wrapped up in a game she’s playing on her phone. She’s working the buttons on the screen with ferocious intensity, her tongue poking out in concentration. Ivy can’t help the fond smile that slips across her lips.

After all the chaotic events they've been caught up in these past couple of weeks, a quiet moment like this seems almost dreamlike, surreal—suspended in time—the seconds blending into minutes that hang around like particles of dust in the air. The details grow soft and hazy as her eyes flutter shut... Ivy doesn't realize she's been slowly drifting off until she feels Harley poke her cheek, amusement written all over her face.

“Ya tryna pull a Sleeping Beauty on me here or what?”

Ivy shakes her head, though she does have to fight the urge to yawn. “Just enjoying some peace and quiet.”

“With me around?” Harley grins. “Not a chance.” She throws her phone aside and scoots closer, resting her head comfortably in Ivy’s lap and stretching her legs all the way to her toes. She takes Ivy's hand to play with her fingers—a featherlight touch, soft enough to tickle.

Before Ivy could wonder, for the thousandth time, just what’s going through Harley’s head, Harley smiles up at her.

“Lemme do your nails, hm? Whatcha say? I’ll make them real pretty, I promise.”

Ivy opens her mouth just as the others barge in through the door and a loud voice echoes throughout the room.

"Hello, ladies!"

Clayface stomps in first, grinning from ear to ear, with King Shark and a tired-looking Doctor Psycho trailing behind them.

Clayface stops in front of the TV and beams at the two women, holding up the plastic bags in his hands with giddy enthusiasm.

“We brought Chinese takeout!”

He takes a long look at the two of them cozied up on the couch and his eyes glisten dramatically.

“Ah, to be young and in love…what a time to be alive! I do believe this calls for a celebration!”

Harley and Ivy jump apart and get up from the couch at the same time, eyebrows raised in surprise. “What!”

King Shark sets the bags he helped carrying on a table then digs around in his back pocket for his phone.

“Here.” He holds up the screen to show them a tweet.

_What the fuck!_

Ivy hauls the phone from his hand to get a closer look.

“Is it crack? Is that what she’s smoking? She’s smoking crack?” Ivy deadpans, staring at the phone for a long moment. Having a hard time believing that she just read what she just read, she blinks absently at the screen until it dims with inactivity.

Harley shuffles closer so that she’s peeking over Ivy’s shoulder, and giggles, “Lemme see.”

Her breath tickles Ivy’s cheek, a faint scent of bubblegum in its wake. Suddenly, Ivy is keenly aware of the proximity, of Harley's hand on the small of her back. It’s a fleeting touch, barely there—still, Ivy’s skin is left tingling the moment Harley grabs the phone and draws back.

“It’s fake news, then?” King Shark nods toward the phone as he scoops up noodles to his mouth and chews around his words, “Click-bait?”

Ivy runs a hand through her hair and gives an irritated sigh. “Of course it’s fake. I’m dating Kiteman, remember?”

“I told you two fucking morons there’s no way these two are carpet munchers, but no one fucking listens to me.” Psycho shakes his head.

Clayface clenches his fist in the air with dramatic flourish. “Why! Why must Twitter deceive us like this! The cruelty!”

“So, uh, funny story…” Harley begins then laughs awkwardly. When all eyes turn in her direction, she rubs at the back of her neck, with a sheepish expression on her face and a nervous giggle. She admits, “This may or may not be my fault…?”

Ivy crosses her arms over her chest, one raised eyebrow demanding an explanation.

Harley clears her throat.

“Okay, so. It happened like, a week ago. You know how I’ve had a lot of shit to deal with like, the Joker and The Legion of Doom and—”

Ivy cuts her a sharp look that tells her to hurry up and get to the point.

“Right, so, anyway. Long story short. My mind’s been a mess, alright? Like way more than usual, and then this Tawny lady just popped out of nowhere and shoved a fucking microphone in my face and she was asking me stupid questions and I wasn’t really paying attention, okay? I just wanted her to get off of my back so I said ‘sure, whatever’ and I guess **this** is what she was talking about? Ugh, I don’t know! I’m sorry!”

“And you didn’t think to mention this to me before because...?”

Harley gives a casual shrug. “I didn’t think it was gonna be such a big deal. And honestly? I still don’t see **why** it’s such a big deal, I mean, so what if people think we’re bumping cats, big whoop. We've got bigger fish to fry.” She waves a hand towards the city outside the windows.

Clayface whispers something to King Shark, about the poor kittens, and King Shark shakes his head ‘no’.

“But Harley said—”

“We’re not bumping cats!” Ivy throws her hands up in exasperation, a flush of embarrassment coloring her cheeks. “No one is bumping cats. Just—shut up—all of you. I need a minute to think.” She pinches the bridge of her nose and closes her eyes for a moment, allowing herself the illusion of privacy while she tries to sort out her thoughts. She doesn't know what exactly about this whole situation bothers her. And why.

“Are you mad?" Harley asks, barely above a whisper. "I’m sorry…I really didn’t think it would bug you so much, geez, I just—”

“It’s fine, it’s not that—It’s just...” Ivy takes a deep breath and heaves a quiet sigh. It feels like full minutes before she decides on what to say next. "It’s fine. Like you said, it’s not that big of a deal, I guess. It’s whatever. It’s just gossip and, hey, at least this time around I’m not associated with some gross-looking, misogynistic troll.”

“I’m **in** the fucking room!” Psycho grumbles through a mouthful of noodles.

Ivy rolls her eyes at the interruption, then hardens her stance. “We’ll just have to go on that show and set the record straight.”

Harley nods distractedly, clearly cooking up some crazy idea. “Unless…”

“Unless what.” Ivy narrows her eyes suspiciously.

“Unless… we don’t?” Harley suggests with an exaggerated flutter of her eyelashes and a cheeky grin.

“What?”

“Well, I mean… would it be **so** bad to let them think that we’re… you know? Think about it. Now that Gotham's a fuckin' wasteland, every big-shot villain is claiming territories left and right—" Harley makes a show of gesturing around wildly, eyes bright with excitement. “Everyone is hungry for chaos but we would be untouchable 'cause no one would even **dare** mess with us if we were: _Gotham’s super-villain power couple!_ ”

“Again, I’m not a super-villain,” Ivy clarifies, making finger quotes around the word, “I’m—”

“An eco-terrorist, yeah, yeah. You say tomato, I say… Point is, we’d be running this town, no sweat! Whaddya say?”

It’s almost impossible to say no when Harley gives her this adorably expectant look.

Ivy feels a surge of affection so strong that she almost shoves down every rational part of her brain that’s screaming this is a bad idea.

_Almost._

She gives herself a mental shake instead. “In case you forgot, again, I have a boyfriend.”

Harley rolls her eyes, with an exaggerated groan. “Yeah, fucking Kiteman. Seriously, Ive, what’s up with that? He’s a lame ass wannabe, and you’re practically a plant goddess. I mean, c’mon, look at you! You’re powerful, smart, **and** smoking hot!” Harley chews her bottom lip, as if her brain finally caught up with her tongue. She buries her hands in her pockets and looks away—cheeks a light shade of red. She lifts a shoulder to give a little shrug. “I just don’t get why you would settle for the absolute bottom of the barrel when you could literally have anyone, that’s all…”

Ivy hopes the heat she feels in her cheeks is only in her imagination and she’s not _actually_ blushing like an idiot right now.

She clears her throat awkwardly.

“I, uh, he’s not...well, he’s not that bad...” She fumbles to find the right words—twisted into uncertain knots. Once again, it feels like she's trying to convince herself more than anything.

“Whatever,” Harley mumbles under her breath, frowning in disappointment. She looks down, rubbing her shoe against a scuff mark on the floor. “All I’m saying is you could do **so** much better...”

The silence that follows is slightly unnerving, and Ivy feels the weight of it—the underlying tension, the unsteady rhythm of her own heart—a stiffness between them when minutes before they’d been at ease. The others might comment on it soon if she doesn't get back to the point.

So she does.

“Anyway." She sighs. "Like I said, we are going on that show and we shut down those rumors once and for all. Understood?”

“But—”

Ivy holds up a hand, stopping Harley before she can continue with more nonsense. “No buts. I said what I said.”

“She said butts. Ha!”

“Shut up, Frank.” Ivy shoots him a glare that makes him lower himself in submission. "This conversation is over."

Ivy waves a hand in cool dismissal on her way out of the room.

Harley shouts after her, “Fine! Whatever! I'm outta here!” She grabs her bat and storms off in the opposite direction.

Doctor Psycho heaves an exasperated groan. “Fucking finally. Now that mommy and daddy are done fighting, we can eat in peace.”


	2. Chapter 2

Ivy checks the time on the screen for what feels like the hundredth time since they arrived at the TV studio.

She bites back a sigh.

There’s a streak of impatience that makes her fiddle with her phone before slipping it back into her pocket.

From where she’s standing backstage, she can see the staff move equipment around the set, testing microphones, multicolored lights. The whole place is thrumming with activity—a sense of agitation that sizzles and ripples through the air. A tiresome blur of noise and voices.

Ivy can hardly wait for this ridiculous talk-show to start. If only for the fact that the sooner it does, the sooner they can get it over with.

Harley, on the other hand, seems to be counting out the minutes with feverish intensity for the exact opposite reason. She’s fidgeting and bouncing on the balls of her feet—very much like someone who’s had one too many energy drinks before coming here. Her eyes skip from one part of the stage to the other, marveling at every little detail. She looks eager to go sit on that pink couch in front of a nosy audience and **talk**.

“So,” Harley drawls, as if on cue.

There’s a devious twinkle in her eyes when Ivy turns to look at her. Somehow, she already knows what Harley is about to say next.

“I know we already argued about this the other day but, any _tiny_ chance ya changed your mind?”

Ivy shakes her head, waving one hand dismissively.

“Don’t start,” she warns, with a tired sigh. It sounds harsher than intended but, best to nip the ‘evil’ in the bud.

Harley sticks out her lower lip in an exaggerated pout as she turns her attention back to the stage.

She mumbles, “It was worth’a try.”

And maybe it’s the crease between her brows, or the way she looks so small and resigned.

Maybe it’s just the simple fact that Ivy can’t stand seeing Harley upset. Which makes her want to ask, to know:

“Why are you so obsessed with this idea? It makes no sense.”

The expression on Harley’s face is difficult to read as she keeps staring ahead. Her eyes seem distant and unfocused, her gaze miles away.

It takes a beat or two of silence before she replies with a small shrug. “I told ya. It’s a solid plan. Bulletproof. I don’t see what could go wrong.”

Ivy is not convinced but she doesn’t say anything else after that. She just stands there, quietly, hip pressed to the wall and arms folded over her chest. She watches the side of Harley’s face, neon tinted underneath the lights around. From the line of her jaw, to the pout of her lips, the soft bend of her nose, the way her eyelashes cast shadows like webs across her cheeks…Ivy realizes she's been staring for a stupid amount of time.

She takes out her phone, sneaks another glance at the clock, then scrolls absently through her apps.

It doesn’t feel strange or anything, the silence, it’s just—well, Ivy can tell that there’s more to it—something underneath.

She just can’t figure out what.

She tucks her phone away and sighs. Against her better judgment, she decides to entertain Harley's idea for a minute.

“Okay, Harls,” she starts, before good sense could step in and give her a chance to keep her mouth shut. “Let’s say I agree—which I don’t—but hypothetically speaking—let’s say I agree to go along with this _plan_ of yours.” Ivy makes exaggerated finger quotes around the word _plan_. “What happens then? We pretend we’re dating? For how long? And just…I don't know. I mean, how exactly would everything play out anyway?”

“Hmm.” Harley taps a finger against her chin, pretending to think about it. “I figured we could just improvise as we go?”

Ivy cocks her head to the side, one teasing eyebrow arched in amusement. “So basically you didn’t think this through.”

Harley snorts a laugh, playfully smacking Ivy’s arm. “C’mon, Ive. Let's be real. When do I **ever** think anything through?”

Ivy shakes her head, biting her lip around a smile. She catches Harley’s gaze—the way it softens when their eyes meet.

This time, it eases them into a comfortable silence and they stand smiling at each other. Until Ivy notices something.

“You have a…” She points vaguely at her own face.

“What?”

“Eyelash.”

“Huh?” Harley glances down at her cheeks, making her look cross-eyed. "Where the fuck...?"

"Here," Ivy tells her, voice strained from holding in a laugh, as she steps closer into Harley's personal space. She brings a finger to her jaw and gently tips her chin up. "Stay still." And for a brief moment, Ivy thinks she catches the hint of a blush when she brushes her thumb over Harley's cheek. Her gaze is instinctively drawn to the shimmer in Harley’s eyes, the way she bites her lip...

A loud, high-pitched voice echoes down the corridor and they instantly jump apart, eyes wide in surprise.

They both turn to watch none other than Tawny Young striding in their direction.

“Aren’t y’all just the cutest couple I ever seen in my entire life?!" The woman squeals in delight, "I love it!”

Ivy tenses up defensively, blushing for no good reason. “We’re not—”

“We’re going live in ten, people!" Someone announces through the loudspeakers.

Tawny beams at them excitedly. “C’mon, girls. Chop, chop. It’s show-time!”

Ivy eases into her seat next to Harley on the pink couch. Greeted by the dizzying lights of all the cameras around, she crosses one leg over the other and taps a finger on her thigh, trying to shove away any lingering trace of nerves as the intro tune of the talk-show comes to a close.

“Good evening, Gotham City! We have two **very** special guests with us tonight... Y'all ready for this?”

Tawny's question is met with a thunder of applause and enthusiastic cheers, but she yells again, "I said, y'all **ready** for this?!"

She stirs up the audience some more, basking in the waves of excitement.

"Then let's give it up for our favorite super-villain ladies: Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy!"

Ivy barely resists the urge to roll her eyes and correct her. Again.

"We're taking questions from Twitter, everyone. Hashtag let's spill the tea with Tawny." An electronic tablet gets passed to her and she starts scrolling. "Let’s see what we have here…Oh! Twitter user @pussywhippedforcatwomanwants to know: who sends the other memes at 3AM?”

Harley grins proudly, raising her hand. Guilty as charged. The audience laughs, and Ivy smiles.

Minutes tick by, one question leading to another.

_What's it like to live together? Who does the grocery shopping? Who hogs the blanket? Who leaves their dirty underwear on the floor?_

People are fucking weird, Ivy thinks.

But it's not as awkward as she expected it would be, sitting here and talking about their daily life. The conversation flows smoothly, even with Ivy keeping most of her answers as clipped as possible. Harley is always ready to chime in with details and do most of the talking.

Ivy doesn't mind it. Even when they are alone together, Harley has a knack for keeping up a steady chatter. And it’s cute, when she gets like this. Borderline hyper and bubbling over with energy, she uses her hands to sketch everything she says in the air, laughing at her own stories.

Ivy doesn’t say it out loud, but _happy_ looks best on Harley.

“And now...for our last question...Oh my, this is a good one, y'all. Twitter user @lesbianbrucewayne wants to know: how did you two meet?”

“Arkham,” Ivy replies, passively, examining her nails with an air of nonchalance; secretly relieved it wasn't **the** dreaded question.

So far so good.

Harley giggles, nudging Ivy playfully in the side. "C'mon! Ya gotta tell it right! All the way from the beginning…” She clears her throat twice, then claps her hands together. “Once upon a time, there was this Brooklyn gal—super smart, super sexy, the whole package, really—that was me. Fresh out of grad school, a PhD in my pocket. You see, I’ve always had this attraction for **extreme** personalities and so…”

Watching Harley talk, with that familiar sparkle in her eye, brings forth the memory of that day.

Ivy remembers sitting on the cold floor of her cell, hugging her knees close to her chest. Wilting.

It could've been weeks or months, it was hard to tell. Her sense of time was numb, just like the rest of her.

Everything felt still and lifeless. A frozen tree on a windless winter night.

Her days were simply bleeding into one another, blending into a limbo-like existence—a quiet monotony.

A colorless and empty feeling.

Alone.

_“Miss Isley? May I call you Pamela?”_

Ivy raised her head, just barely. Her hair falling into her eyes, the details grew sharper, slowly, like a photo coming into focus.

Blonde hair, and blue eyes. A bright smile.

_“Welcome to Arkham. I’m Dr. Quinzel. I’ll be your psychiatrist. I’m here to help you, but I hope, perhaps, we could be friends?”_

Ivy could see her clearly then. The spotless white coat. Her hair tied neatly into a bun. Eyes hiding behind thick-rimmed glasses.

Harleen kept her hand outstretched through the prison bars, waiting, patiently.

Ivy remembers thinking, plain and simple, this woman must have a death wish.

_“You do realize I can concentrate enough toxins in my hand to kill you in seconds, don’t you?”_

Then something unexpected happened.

An honest smile—warm and inviting—like the first rays of sunlight after you’ve been stuck in the shadows for too long.

_“All friendships have a strong foundation of trust.”_

And Ivy felt a **pull** , as if the two of them were connected by an invisible string. She couldn't have resisted it if she tried.

The moment their hands touched becomes like a muted snapshot, etched behind her eyelids.

_"See? Now was that so difficult?"_

Harley’s vibrant laugh drifts through her thoughts as Ivy comes back to the present.

“Miss Isley here…” Harley throws her a teasing wink. “She was a tough nut to crack,” Harley chuckles, then something in her eyes shifts—a change so small, Ivy doubts anyone else can tell. But she sees it in the way Harley’s shoulders slump the slightest bit when she says, “But then again, they all were…" Her voice shakes around a bitter laugh. "And little ol’ me just couldn’t resist the challenge…Ya know what they say, right? The road to hell is paved with good intentions." She huffs then shakes her head as if to clear the thought. "And ta-da! Here we are now.”

There’s an undercurrent of misery—distant and lingering—that makes Ivy want to reach out, take her hand, soothe the pain.

“You did help **me** , though," Ivy tells her, sincerely. "More than you know. I..." She pauses, her jaw tensing as she tries to quell the burn in her cheeks. She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, and looks away when she says, "I can’t imagine what my life would be without you.”

She is aware of how embarrassingly earnest that must have sounded, and hearing Tawny squeal, and the way the audience coos, definitely doesn't help. But Ivy can’t bring herself to regret it because Harley's face softens into something entirely too adoring and affectionate.

“Ivy...”

Her name lingers on Harley's tongue like it belongs there.

And Ivy feels it again—that tug. Sharp and igniting, like the striking of a match, something hard and bright in her chest.

“So, when did y'all know?”

Ivy blinks self-consciously. “Know what?”

Tawny giggles. “That you were meant to be together of course!”

Ivy opens her mouth, her heart pulsing at the back of her tongue. "I...uh..."

She swallows against a dry throat; all of a sudden, feeling entirely too visible underneath the blinding lights of the cameras.

“Aw, babe, don’t be shy.” Harley scoots closer, her smile sweet and teasing. She slips a hand beneath Ivy’s and slowly intertwines their fingers. “Let’s just say it was a long time coming. Right?” Her eyes dance with a challenge and a hint of mischief. But for Ivy, it's a moment of absolute clarity. In the span of a heartbeat, it’s as if every other detail of the world fades and it’s just Harley and that infectious little smile of hers.

And it strikes her then—it’s like her brain just caught up on what her heart’s been trying to clue her in all along.

“Right,” Ivy exhales shakily, the word nearly catching in her throat.

Tawny shimmies in her seat. "There you have it, y'all! The truth is **out**. The tea is piping hot!”

In the back of her mind, Ivy can hear the audience react but it’s all background noise.

Tawny goes ahead to thank the sponsors. The lights begin to dim. The show is ending, and Ivy blinks into thin air.

She feels like she's a beat or two behind the present, with realization flooding through her, and her heart pounding in her ears.

Harley leans in to whisper, “I’m so happy you changed your mind, Ive. We’ll have so much fun with this, you’ll see!”

But all Ivy can think is, ‘Fuck. I’m so screwed.’

There’s no mistake about it, no denying.

Ivy is in love with Harley.

It’s as simple and as complicated as that.


	3. Chapter 3

Harley glares down at her phone like it’s the reason for all of her problems **ever**.

Tossing it aside on the couch, she groans. Loudly.

“Ugh. Seriously…Where the fuck is everyone?!”

It’s late. She’s alone. And more important than that, Harley is bored out of her mind.

Flicking absently through TV channels can only keep her entertained for so long before she starts losing every bit of sanity she has left.

She heaves a sigh, an overly indignant noise—an echo of a sound in the otherwise quiet space around.

With the city outside slowly surrendering to the night, the mall is becoming a blur of shadow and dim light.

She brings her knees up so she can rest her chin on them, wiggling her toes impatiently.

The white glow from the TV screen gets harsher in the dark. She can practically feel the pixels linger behind her eyelids when she blinks.

That's the thing about boredom. Her thoughts are left buzzing around inside her head like frantic fireflies in a jar.

_What’s taking her so long? Should I text her? Should I call?_

Bud and Lou cuddle up next to her on the couch. They nuzzle into her sides. Harley gives them attention, a scratch, a pat.

Her sweet babies—a welcome distraction. A comforting presence.

Still, there’s this aching in her chest that just doesn't go away, like a tight knot that refuses to come undone. She tries to force her mind in a different direction, but her eyes dart over to her phone every other minute, waiting—hoping—for the screen to light up with a message or a call.

Anything.

But she gets nothing.

Frowning in disappointment, she grabs her phone and checks the time again.

It’s only been hours, but she suddenly misses Ivy so much, she feels it in her toes. _How crazy is that?_

Her thumbs hover absently over the screen until she finally decides to start a text.

[Hey]

Delete.

[Are you spending the night there or something? Haha. Just curious.]

There’s a twitch of annoyance that crawls under her skin as soon as she’s done typing. Harley bites down on her lip and presses ‘delete’. Just the idea of it… the fact that it might actually be true… She’s better off not knowing. Right? But, it’s like, the harder she tries to shove those thoughts away, the faster they circle around. And she can’t stand it. She can’t even explain it—this venom that gnaws at her from inside out.

It’s bitter.

It tastes like defeat, and Harley doesn’t like it one bit.

_Ugh._

She throws her head back, staring up at the ceiling, looking for shapes in the vaguely distorted shadows.

Her mind flashes back to what happened earlier that day.

_“Fine! Have fun on your stupid date!”_

It was such a childish thing to say, Harley knew it as soon as she said it, but she couldn’t help herself.

Watching Ivy get ready to leave when they were supposed to hang out together. They were supposed to plan their next move, and set things in motion. Not hit the pause button so Ivy could go on a stupid date with her dumbass boyfriend a day after her and Harley practically confirmed their relationship on Live TV. It makes no sense. Sure. Whatever. It's fake. A _fake_ relationship. But, still.

_“Jesus, Harley. What the fuck is your problem?”_

Harley could feel it then. The simmering annoyance edging closer to a boil. The frustration bubbling over to rage.

_“My **problem** is that you keep ditching me for some guy!”_

It was the wrong thing to say, Harley knew it the second it left her mouth. But it was something that’s been stuck in her throat for weeks now.

Really, it was only a matter of time before it all came tumbling out.

Ivy huffed a short, bitter laugh. _“Yeah? Well. Now you know how it feels.”_

Those words have been echoing in Harley’s ears ever since she watched Ivy walk out the door. Over and over, the exact same words, shifting around like static in her mind. The sheer irony of it almost makes her want to laugh. A pathetic sound in the middle of a self-pitying party that she doesn’t even deserve. Because it's true, what Ivy said. Harley has no right to act or feel this way. Not when she’s done this to Ivy before—countless times. So then, what's the problem? Why can’t she calm down? Why can't she just be happy for Ivy? Be a good friend for a change.

“I’m such a fucking idiot,” Harley catches herself murmuring out loud.

“Who are you talking to?”

Harley perks up at the sound of Ivy’s voice. She whirls around in her seat, suddenly grinning from ear to ear.

“Ive! You’re back!”

In the shadowed dimness of the mall, her figure is no more than a silhouette until she steps close enough for Harley to see clearly.

The moonlit shimmer in her eyes, the little smile twitching on her lips.

“Yeah. Um, quick question. Harls, **why** are you sitting here all by yourself? Brooding, in the dark?”

Harley laughs awkwardly, her gaze shifting from one side to the other, looking for a good excuse.

She catches Bud and Lou’s pitiful eyes before they bail out on her. _The lil’ rascals._

“Well...” She might as well do what she does best. She cracks a joke. “Y’know. Now that Batsy’s gone, I figured, _someone_ ’s gotta do it, right?”

“Sure.” Ivy shakes her head, visibly amused.

Harley counts that as a win. Now, if only she could keep her mouth shut, and not push her luck. But that's never been her strong suit.

“So.” She clears her throat. “How was it? Your date.”

Her voice wavers, just slightly, but it's painfully obvious and she internally curses herself for it. _Fuck._ She tried. Really. But acting like it doesn’t bother her feels like holding a pill under her tongue, pretending the bitterness isn’t seeping through her mouth with every passing second.

“It was fine. It was…” Ivy trails off, taking a pause to run her fingers through her hair, then sighs. “It wasn’t really… a date. We broke up.”

“Oh.” Harley opens her mouth, then closes it again. Not sure what else to say.

_Sorry to hear that,_ maybe? Except she’s not. And faking it won’t help her case. Not after the way she acted before...

Harley bites her lip.

“I’m sorry. For, y'know, being a selfish jerk and lashing out at you like that…I have no idea what got into me, really. I just, I snapped.”

“It’s fine, Harls. I mean, it’s not _fine_. But, I **know** you. Besides, we’ve both had a rough time lately. It’s been a **lot** to take in, and I get it. So, let’s just leave it at that, okay?”

“So…we’re good?”

Ivy tilts her head and smiles—a genuine smile that relaxes the lines on her face and softens her eyes when she says, “We’re good.” 

Harley can’t help but smile back. The moment their eyes meet, they hold, for a while...until Ivy clears her throat and looks away.

“Where are the others?”

Harley gives a shrug. “Around. Somewhere. I have no idea. Anyway. Wanna go over the plan now?" She asks, filled with brand new energy. She rushes to look around the couch until she spots the balled up piece of paper she scribbled on earlier then angrily tossed aside. She quickly smoothens the wrinkles over her knee then holds it up so Ivy can see. "Look at this! I got so bored, I even drew a stupid map and everything!”

Ivy quirks a brow, and there’s this breathy chuckle that follows—a giddy cocktail of amusement and disbelief.

Harley is sure it makes her heart skip a beat.

“Okay, _fine_. Just...Let me go check on my babies first.”

“Oh! Can I come with?"

"I don't know, Harls," Ivy drawls, her tone teasing, " _Can_ you?"

Fair enough, Harley thinks. She set herself up for that one. But she doesn't waste any time in getting up and skipping her way to Ivy’s side, a happy bounce in every step. She follows Ivy to the designated ‘Green Room’ where she keeps most of her plants, and vines, and gardening tools.

Ivy shrugs her jacket off, and Harley straddles a chair nearby. Folding her arms over the back and resting her chin on them, she watches as Ivy combs a hand through her hair and ties it up into a ponytail. As she walks around and speaks to her _babies_ , there’s always a note of such genuine, bone-deep fondness in her voice. It fills Harley with warmth. Just being with Ivy like this—even in simple and ordinary moments—it feels right. And it's kind of funny how, for someone who thrives on chaos, Harley finds it naturally easy to fall into domestic routines with Ivy.

It's a simple recipe. Harley talks, Ivy listens.

But that's the catch. Ivy **always** listens.

Harley, on the other hand? Not so much.

_Hasn't that always been the problem?_

But she was a psychiatrist, once upon a time. She was good at her job, she likes to think, despite all evidence to the contrary. She knows a thing or two about body language. It’s all in the details. More often than not, it’s the little things that help you see the bigger picture. If you pay attention…You notice. You start to wonder. And she does that now. Carefully watching Ivy do whatever it is she's doing over there, she seems a little **too** preoccupied. Almost compulsive in the way she avoids direct eye contact. Her shoulders are stiff, and she looks... strangely guarded.

Harley doesn't want to jump to conclusions, assume it's her fault. But who else is there to blame?

This all started the moment they left that talk show. Which can only mean one thing...

Harley frowns at the badly drawn map she’s holding in her hands, and realizes just how dumb this whole plan is to begin with.

No.

That’s a lie. Who is she kidding? She knew. Right from the start. She knew it's a half-baked scheme, with no direction, no sense, just something born out of an impulse—an inexplicable urge that gripped her from the second she heard those dating rumors. A light-bulb lit up in her head, and she was fully aware that it might be something just a bit on the wrong side of crazy. Still... she clung to that idea, and dragged Ivy along.

_In the end, she didn't really give her much of a choice, did she?_

Harley bites down on her lip; a silent admission of guilt.

“Hey, Ive?”

“Yeah?”

“I thought about it, y'know? Just now. I was thinkin'...If it really bothers you so much, we can call it quits. The plan, I mean.”

She can't tell what Ivy's thinking. Not when she only gets to see the back of her head.

“I think it’s a little too late for that, Harls. Everyone in Gotham thinks we’re a couple.”

“So what? We can ring Tawny up and tell her we were just messin’ around or we broke up or whatever.”

Ivy doesn't answer right away. She doesn't turn around, doesn't look at Harley when she asks, “Is that what you want?”

Harley frowns. “No. But, isn’t it what **you** want?”

She's met with silence. Again. She doesn't know what to make of it, and it's keeping her on edge. 

Ivy sighs. “What’s done is done, right? So, we might as well see how this plan of yours plays out.”

“If ya say so…”

“Harls," Ivy tells her, "I’m fine with it. Really.”

But it’s only when their eyes meet that everything goes still and a familiar sense of ease finally settles within her.

“You sure?” Harley asks, biting her lip around a smile.

Ivy nods. “I mean. How hard can it be? We’ll just…keep doing what we usually do, I guess.”

She gives a small shrug, busying herself with tending to one of the potted plants on the table.

Harley grins, satisfied. She abandons the chair and makes her way next to Ivy. “Right? It’s not like we never held hands before. No biggie.”

“Sure. But, what about…the other things people do when they are dating?”

Harley pushes herself up to sit on the table, dangling her feet.

“You mean sex?” She waggles her eyebrows, teasingly.

Ivy pinches her thigh. “Kissing,” she says, matter-of-factly, “I meant kissing.”

“Oh." Harley blinks, her thoughts tripping over themselves as she tries to force her mind to catch up. “Right. That.”

She doesn't know why the idea of kissing Ivy is so nerve wracking when seconds ago she was joking about sex. It makes no sense, but... Harley feels her mouth go dry just thinking about it. She swallows slowly. “Do you…do you want to? Kiss me, I mean. It’s okay if you don’t want to—”

“Harley.” The way Ivy says her name sends a tingling shiver down her spine. She slides the gardening gloves off of her hands, slowly and one at a time. She unties her hair, and suddenly the air seems full of static when she looks at Harley and says, “I can’t kiss you. If you keep talking.”

Harley gulps, her eyes unblinking as she watches Ivy step closer. Her heart leaps into overdrive, pounding hard against her rib cage.

Ivy's palms come to rest on her thighs and Harley parts her legs instinctively, making room for Ivy to step in-between them.

Harley can see the rise and fall of Ivy’s chest, an unsteady rhythm that seems to match the beats of her own heart.

When she looks up, Ivy’s eyes seem darker—her gaze more intense than it was a moment ago.

It holds her spellbound, coiled tight with anticipation, and ready to burst. The seconds stretch until it feels like time has stopped.

Then Ivy leans in, and Harley meets her halfway in a heartbeat. She closes the distance, pressing their lips together for the first time.

It’s a simple kiss, soft and chaste by all means—a tentative brush of lips. Ivy lets it linger just for a beat before she pulls back. But she stays there, close enough for Harley to still feel her breath, hot and heavy in the minute space between their lips. Harley wants **more**. Right now, that's all she knows. With a sudden throb of **desire** pulsing through every inch of her body, she feels her control slips between heartbeats, and she leans forward to kiss Ivy again—a movement so automatic it feels like breathing, something you **need** to do, without even thinking about it.

Her eyes flutter shut as she presses into the kiss. Ivy gives her thighs a squeeze, the smallest bit of pressure, but Harley feels it travel up through her like a bolt of electricity. That's when something clicks into place inside her. Right then, and there. Ivy’s face bursts into vivid color behind her eyelids, like fireworks—so clear, so bright. All these moments in time—haphazard memories whirling around inside her mind.

Everything is dripping with the lingering presence of Ivy—her smile, her touch, the sound of her laugh.

_It's always been Ivy._

When they pull apart, Harley is light-headed and speechless, falling back into her own space in a daze.

She opens her eyes, and it's like she’s seeing Ivy for the first time and for the thousandth time all at once. The world goes blurry, then everything comes into focus. How could she be so fucking blind? All this time... It was the most obvious answer, just hiding in plain sight.

“I…" Ivy begins, then hesitates, as if debating on what to say next. "I guess we know how to do that, huh? Good to know."

Her voice is devoid of any emotion, but for a second there, it seemed like maybe she wanted to say something else.

But instead, Ivy bites her lip, and steps back.

Harley opens her mouth, then closes it again; her heart pulsing at the back of her tongue.

“Yeah…" She exhales shakily, "Good to know.”

She is **fucked**.


End file.
